


Just You, Me, and the Stars

by bikai



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: ALEX AND AARON ARE DADS YO, Abusive Relationships, Homophobia, IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR IT DOES, Light drug use, M/M, Mentions of Domestic Trouble, SERIOUSLY DONT LET THE ANGST SCARE YOU ITS GOOD I SWEAR, Virginity, historically accurate can kiss my ass, not a happy fic yo, pheacker - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikai/pseuds/bikai
Summary: i don't know what living a balanced life feels likewhen i am sadi don't cry, i pourwhen i am happyi don't smile, i beamwhen i am angryi don't yell, i burnthe good thing aboutfeeling in extremesis when i lovei give them wingsbut perhapsthat isn'tsuch a good thingcause they alwaystend to leave andyou should see mewhen my heart is brokeni don't grieveishatter- rupi kaur





	Just You, Me, and the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> YO OKAY LOTS OF THINGS TO SAY BEFORE YALL READ THIS  
> 1)historical accuracy can suck my dick okay yes i know Nathanael Greene Pendleton was born in 1793 and was 8 when Philip died but I needed a bully for Philip that waSNT GEORGE EACKER AMD I KNOW THERE WERE SO MANY MORE I COULD CHOOSE BUT FUCK OFF OK  
> 2)this is NOT a really happy fic ok??? It deals with homophobia (slurs and fights), slightly abusive relationships, underage sex and drugs (their in high school so I mean what do you expect should I put up an archive warning?? Idc), and really slight domestic trouble with Aaron and alex (when alex gets stressed about work he turns into a bit of a drunk and kinda shuts out his family) basically i just called society out on all its bullshit in this fic  
> 3) i had no idea who the fuck Richard price was before this fic ok i had to look him up should I have read a few other fanfics to get to know his character???? Probably. Did I??? Nope.  
> 4)I WORKED REALLY HARD ON THIS ONE OKAY AND OTHER THAN THE HISTORICAL INNACURAIES IM SUPER PROUD OF IT SO JUST READ IT AND LEAVE SOME PITY KUDOS
> 
> I love you

The mess Philip Hamilton-Burr accidentally got into started in detention.

It all started one day in a cold, empty classroom after high school had gotten out, Philip sitting at a desk and doodling in a notebook. Time crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace, and while the pain from his split lip had gone down, the bruise forming on his side was getting worse by the second. 

He sat back in his chair and glanced out the window, trying to get a better look at the bird he was sketching, when the person behind him caught his eye.

George Eacker was sitting a couple rows behind him, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him. He was looking distantly out the window, but he met Philip's gaze and held it. Philip instead turned his gaze to the kid sitting opposite of Eacker, a tall, lean kid with a bleeding nose that Philip had given him. Philip had already forgotten his name, Nathanael maybe, but he was scowling at Philip menacingly, obviously blaming him for getting all four of them in detention.

_'You should have watched your mouth before you talked about my father then.'_

His parents hadn't been too happy when Philip called them from the nurses office to tell them he'd gotten into another fight. Well, his dad hadn't been happy, but Pops couldn't have cared less as long as the kid deserved it and Philip wasn't badly hurt. 

"Are you hurt bad, kiddo?" Pops had asked with concern over the phone.

"Nah, Pops." Philip had responded, trying to sound casual as he kicked his feet against the infirmary bed. "Just a split lip and a few bruises. Shithead deserved it though, homophobic little prick."

"Language, Philip." That had been his other father's voice, chiding him gently from somewhere near his Pops.

"Good then. I hope you beat the shit out of him." Pops had muttered lightheartedly, ignoring the disapproving snort he earned from his husband. 

"Language, Alexander. Christ, he's only in high school."

His dads had agreed that one of them would pick him up after his two-hour detention was over. His sister, Theodosia, had reluctantly gone home alone. 

So now he was stuck in the last thirty minutes of detention with two people he hated, and his closest friend, Richard Price. The two glanced over at each other, and Richard's brow furrowed in concern, but Philip shook his head, telling him not to worry. Richard had always had his back ever since they started high school, making Philip feel even worse when Richard got roped into fights just for hanging around with him.

The very last thirty minutes crawled by painfully, and when the teacher overseeing detention finally said they were dismissed, the four of them practically leaped up from their seats. Nathanael purposefully shoved Philip out of the way, delivering a slap to the back of his head as he did so. George brushed him out of the way, glancing coldly at him over his shoulder before walking out of the room. Philip gathered his notebook and pencil and shoved them into his backpack. Richard waited for him at the door and they walked out together.

"How's your lip?" Richard looked at him curiously, and Philip shrugged. "What assholes, huh?" Richie seethed, staring at George and Nathanael as they walked away down the hall together.

"Tell me about it. Sorry you got detention because of me, dude." 

It was Richard's turn to shrug, and he smiled. "Ah, its fine. I got tonight's and tomorrow's homework finished anyway."

Philip laughed softly. "Do you need a ride home?"

"My mom's waiting out front. Tell your pops I said hi."

"Will do, see you Monday, Richie." Philip waved as Richard until his backpack over his small shoulders, waved, and ran out. 

Neither of his dads were here yet, so Philip walked into the boy's bathroom to wipe the blood from his lip. He didn't need to go home looking like a piece of shit. He grabbed a piece of paper towel and ran it under the faucet, before pressing it to his lip. It stung a little a bit, and he hissed, but wiped the dried and cracked blood away gently.

Next, looking around to make sure he was alone, he unbuttoned his shirt to look at the bruise. It was spreading quickly across the the left side of his chest, and turning a dark shade of purple. He ran another piece of towel under the cold water and pressed it gingerly to the bruise. It didn't help as much as ice would have, but it was somewhat comforting. 

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened, and Philip dropped his head and busied himself with throwing the soggy paper away and buttoning his shirt. He glanced up in the mirror and saw George Eacker standing by the doorway, and his fingers froze on his shirt. He watched as Eacker reached behind him and locked the bathroom door. 

Philip needed to get out of there.

He finished buttoning up his shirt, his hands flying. He grabbed his schoolbag and kept his head down as he made silently for the door. He was almost there when Eacker grabbed his arm and shoved him back. Philip caught himself on the edge of the sink, his schoolbag slipping from his shoulder and landing on the tiled floor. 

George stepped nonchalantly over the bag, approaching Philip casually before shoving him back again, and this time his head hit the wall and throbbing pain blossomed in his neck.

"You think it's funny gettin' me in detention, pretty boy?" George grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shook him. "Even when I wasn't the one who did that to you?"

That was true, Eacker hadn't hit him, that had all been Nathanael throwing the punches. Eacker had stood back and, leaning against the wall and watching as if the fight were a show on TV. Some of Nathanael's friends were holding Richard, kicking and struggling violently, making him watch as his 'boyfriend' was beat up. 

A teacher had eventually come to investigate the commotion, and the pricks holding back Richard dropped him and ran. Eacker and Nathanael had tried to run, but the teacher grabbed them and sent the four of them to detention. 

"Answer me, you little shit!" Eacker pushed him against the wall again, and Philip struggled hard, but Eacker's elbow was digging into the bruise on his chest and God, it hurt.

"Fuck you." Philip spat at him and Eacker scowled, obviously not satisfied with this answer. 

"You're just lucky I didn't beat up that little boyfriend of yours. It'd be easy too, weak little kid like him."

Philip laughed then, remembering the time Richard had a little too much to drink at a party and beat the living shit out of a guy who tried to pull Philip to his bedroom and wouldn't take no for an answer. He was small but he could kick your ass.

"He's stronger than he looks." Philip gave Eacker a self assured smirk.

"You sure about that?" Eacker smirked in response, making Philip scowl.

"Touch him, and I'll kill you."

Something indistinguishable flashed behind Eacker's eyes, Philip thought he saw something akin to jealousy, but it was as gone as soon as it came. 

"I'd like to see you try, pretty boy."

Philip raised his hand to punch him, but Eacker grabbed both his wrists deftly and pinned them against the wall above his head. Philip only struggled harder, squirming under Eacker's body, but then his hips snapped unintentionally against Eacker's and that definitely didn't help him at all. 

And it definitely did _not_ help when he shuddered uncontrollably at the contact.

He prayed Eacker wouldn't notice, but of course, he did. He stepped back a little to look at him, eyes wide with shock. Philip looked back at him, face flushed with embarrassment and his pants irritably tight. Had Eacker's eyes always been that beautiful dark brown that they were right now? Philip found his eyes wandering over his face, from the sharp curve of his jaw to his high cheekbones, and eventually to the curve of his full upper lip.

Almost experimentally, Eacker stepped in again and rocked his hips gently against Philip's. Philip ducked his head down to try and hide the pleasure that rippled through his body, but the way his groin throbbed against Eacker's hip probably gave him away. Eacker started up a steady pace, a rhythmic slapping beat of their hips, and Philip felt his knees start to go weak. Eacker placed a knee on the wall behind them to support both Philip and himself as he ducked his head against the crook of Philip's neck.

"You enjoying this?" Eacker's voice, husky and low and surprisingly arousing, shook Philip to his core. He couldn't help nodding shamefully. He felt Eacker's lips stretch into a smile against his neck, and then something warm and wet was on the same area. Philip's pulse jumped when he realized it was his tongue. 

Eacker slipped his other knee between Philip's legs and rubbed it against his crotch in a way that made him tremble and moan loudly. Eacker pulled back and looked at him angrily, shoving him against the wall again.

"Be quiet, you filthy scoundrel." He growled, and Philip snapped his mouth closed obediently. "You want someone to come in here and find you like this? Getting off on being held down by another man?"

Philip swallowed thickly and stared at him silently, sure that Eacker was going to leave. There was something in his dark eyes, and looking back on it, Philip realized it had been fear.

"Good." Eacker said after a moment of silence. "Stay that way." 

And with that, he let go of Philip's wrists - which Philip took as an invitation put his hands to Eacker's hips. Eacker's hands moved to Philip's shirt, and there he started unbuttoning the white dress shirt. Philip watched, barely breathing, as his dark hands flew deftly down the front of his shirt. 

Once most of his shirt was undone, Eacker slipped his hands in against Philip's chest, making Philip's breath hitch. Eacker's hands were surprisingly gentle when they brushed over the bruise, and he even leaned down to place a gentle kiss to the same area. Philip relaxed in his grip, letting his head fall back against the wall, a small smile lighting up his face. The tender sweetness turned to blazing heat when Eacker's mouth trailed upwards and he swiped his tongue over a nipple. Philip arched off the wall, his fingers digging into Eacker's hips.

"George-"

"Don't speak." Eacker brought one hand up to weave it through Philip's curls. Their eyes met and sparked, and then they were kissing, and God, it had never been this good before. Philip's heart felt like it was going to burst into flames when Eacker's tongue slipped out to trace the seam of his lips. Everything was so warm and Philip had never wanted anything more in his life. 

Eacker was still moving his hips against Philip's and his mouth was warm and wet in all the right places. Eacker bit right down on Philip's split lip and-

"Shit!" Philip flinched away from him, one hand coming up to his mouth.

"Sorry." Eacker muttered, pulling away and actually looking apologetic for a moment. Philip wiped a finger across his lip, and it came away bloody again. They stayed like that for a few blissful moments, pressed up against each other as they both came down from their high.

Eventually, Eacker stepped away, leaving Philip cold and stunned against the wall. He looked him up and down as Phillip pulled his shirt back up his shoulders, his eyes taking in every undone detail. As Philip was buttoning up the last few buttons, Eacker reached out and brushed his thumb along his jawline. 

Philip looked at him expectantly as his thumb ghosted over his bruised bottom lip. Their eyes met and Philip prayed that George would kiss him again, but then he said this:

"Give me your phone."

Philip obeyed and dug his phone out of his pocket to hand it to him. George punched in his number, Philip realized, and then handed it back to him as if nothing had just happened. But everything had just happened. By giving Philip his number, George created a level of intimacy that hadn't been there even when they kissed. By giving Philip his number George sparked a chain reaction that would last for almost three months.

And that had been the first time.

They didn't speak of that day until about a month later, during Spring Break.

 

Both his dads were out of town. Pops had to go away on business with Time magazine and had invited his husband to go along with him. Though both Philip and Theo suspected that they were just enjoying some 'alone time' more than doing any work. Philip didn't think too hard about it.

He'd only briefly told Theo about the kiss with George. He refrained from telling her about the grinding and the hands up the shirts. There were things even his sister didn't need to know about. He hadn't even tried to tell Richard, mostly because he wouldn't understand. And Theo hadn't understood either. 

"I don't like him." She had stated blatantly, turning back to her schoolwork. Philip shrugged, knowing that was the answer he was going to get.

"He's bad, Philip." She had told him, probably noticing his defensive expression.

"He's not that bad, Theo."

"Wasn't he the one who beat you up?"

"No, that was all Nathanael."

"Well, I still don't like him. He gets high behind the school and sleeps with girls. He's a bad influence."

Philip snorted and flopped down on her bed. "But he's hot. And since when do you use dad's lines?"

She glared at him, but then smiled. "I guess I do sound like Dad sometimes, don't I?" 

They had laughed and that had been the end of it. He never told Theo about what happened over Spring Break.

Theo had been sleeping over at a friend's house, leaving Philip alone with the house. After spending some time alone in his room writing poems, he'd sent George a flirty joking text.

_'Parents aren't home, I've got the house to myself. You know what that means ;)'_

He hadn't expected George to respond at all, he barely ever did, but less than five minutes later he'd gotten a text in reply.

_'On my way'_

Philip had stared at it for a long time, trying to decide what to do about it. Excitement was bubbling in his veins as George pulled up in his old school convertible - God, Philip loved the look of him in that car - and got out. 

Instead of using the front door, like a normal person would, Philip watched as George climbed the tree next to his window, paying particular attention to the muscles flexing underneath the dark skin. As George neared the branches closest to the window, Philip slid the window open and looked out at him fondly.

"Y'know the front door was unlocked, right?"

He moved aside as George swooped in with a charming smile. "Yeah, I know. But where's the fun in that?"

With that he pulled Philip forward by the back of his neck and their mouths were coming together again. Philip found that he had been waiting for this moment ever since the day in the boy's bathroom. George held him by the back of his neck and his hip as he licked Philip's mouth open, earning little grunts and groans from the shorter boy. Their tongues slid past each other with delicious ease, and Philip couldn't help arching his back into George's chest. 

Just to see how far he was allowed to take things, Philip slid his hands under George's tight shirt. The fabric rode up with his hands easily, exposing the insanely chiseled abs that Philip had been dying to see ever since he'd first seen George Eacker in the boy's locker room. As their lips and tongues moved perfectly together, Philip let his fingertips ghost over the muscles of George's stomach, his breath hitching every time the muscles jumped under his touch. 

Philips hands moved of their own accord to grip the hem of George's shirt, and he raised his arms above his head so that Philip could pull the shirt off easily. Once George had his shirt off, Philip stepped back to peel his own off. He tried to act sultry in the affair, pulling the shirt off in one smooth motion, his eyes dark and heavy. Once their chests were both bare, George pulled Philip back in to connect their mouths again. George's arms came up to wrap around Philip's lean body, and the very contact of warm skin on warm skin sent sparks of pleasure rippling down Philip's spine. 

George's hands trailed down to Philip's hips again, and he gripped them in warning before snapping his hips forwards into Philip's. Philip moaned into George's mouth, but instead of shushing him, the sound only seemed to spur George on. He crowded Philip against the wall, planting his hands on the wall on either side of Philip's head, and started rocking his hips forwards repeatedly. 

" _God_ , yes." Philip keened and looped his arms around George's shoulders. 

"Bet you've been waitin' for this, huh?" George breathed out against his mouth. One of his hands reached down to grip Philip's thigh, and he massaged his hand into the meat there. Philip shuddered and nodded, his toes curling with sweet pleasure. "I've wanted to see you like this ever since I got you all flushed and whiny in the bathroom."

Philip let out a soft moan, glad that he hadn't been the only one who was thinking about that day. He moved his arms under George's to have better access to his back, his hands feeling him all over because he just couldn't get enough. George gripped both his thighs and hoisted him up, stumbling a little under his weight. 

He spun around and dropped Philip onto the bed. Philip scooted back until he hit the headboard, as George knocked his legs wide open and fit himself between them. Philip felt his heart beat stutter when George started unbuttoning his pants. He swooped down to suck a hickey into the skin of Philip's neck and then moved his mouth to Philip's, kissing him with open-mouthed vigor. 

"A-are we doing this?" Philip managed to get out when George moved his mouth back to his neck. He watched, intoxicated, as George pulled his pants off and tossed them across the room. 

"If you want to." George murmured and now moved his hands to Philip's pants, fumbling with the button and the zipper. 

"Uh..." Philip's mind went blank, unsure of what he wanted. George stilled suddenly and leaned back to look at him. 

"You want this, right Philip?"

"I..." Philip licked his lips and shifted a little on the bed. "Yes. Yes, I want this. Bad. It's just..."  
"Your first time?" George finished for him, and reached up to brush a corkscrew of dark hair out of his face, his fingers surprisingly gentle. Philip nodded and looked down, his face hot with embarrassment. "That's alright. That's fine, Philip, I'll go gentle, okay?"

"Okay." 

George's hands moved back to the front of his pants again and he looked up at him, asking for permission. Philip nodded frantically, hoping he looked convincing because he really did want this. George leaned in and kissed him again, and Philip made a soft noise because all of this was the perfect mix of sweet and sinful and it was making his head spin.

"Will it, uh..." 

George looked up at him, asking him to continue, as he pulled Philip downwards by his thighs.

"Will it hurt?" Philip moved himself onto his back and down the bed obediently. George hummed and thought over the answer as he pulled Philip's pants all the way down his legs and tossed his thighs over his hips.

"Only if you want it to." He responded finally with a coy smirk. Philip laughed a little and pulled George down to connect their mouths again.

The sun was setting low in the sky, casting golden light through the window and across Philip's bed as the two of them moved together.

 

The next morning, Philip woke up to the sound of birds tittering cheerily and the cool morning air drifting through the open window of Philip's bedroom. The smooth white bedsheets were wrapped tightly around his waist, and one of his legs was hanging off the side of the bed. He turned his head out of the pillow and found George standing, wearing only a drooping pair of sweats, at the open window, a cigarette in his mouth. 

It was a nice sight to wake up to, Philip thought to himself and smiled lazily. He turned himself over onto his back, relishing in the warmth from the sheets and the sun. George turned to look at him, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing smoke into his room.

"Morning, doll." He droned and then turned back to the window, his eyes still a little sleepy.

"G' morning." Philip arched his back off the bed as he stretched, feeling George's eyes on him the entire time. He pushed himself off the bed into a sitting position and scratched his head as he yawned. 

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" George took another long drag of his cigarette and smirked at him. Philip scrunched his nose playfully at him, mocking irritation.

"Yeah. It was..." Philip sighed as he groped for words to describe the experience. George laughed softly at his speechless state, making Philip flush. "Fun. It was good, great even." 

"Well, that is what most people say." George parted his lips and let out a long sigh of smoke, illuminated by the sunlight. 

"You shouldn't do that." Philip reached down to grab his sketchbook from under his bedside table and a few pencils. He wanted to draw him. He wanted to draw the strong curve of his jawline and his full upper lip, he wanted to draw his broad shoulders and his collarbone, he wanted to draw the muscles of his stomach and the v-line of his hips.

"Do what?" 

"Smoke." Philip replied as he flipped to a new page and put his pencil to the paper.

"Why?"

"It's not healthy."

"Says who?"

"Science!" 

George snorted in response and took another drag. 

"Seriously, Georgie, you're going to get lung cancer and your teeth are going to fall out and I won't kiss you anymore."

George watched him as he drew for a few moments before speaking up again. "Did you just call me 'Georgie'?"

Philip's hand stilled on the paper. He hadn't meant to say it, that had just been what he'd been calling George in his mind. It had just simply slipped out without Philip noticing.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"It's fine, it was cute." George walked over to him and Philip pulled the sketchbook up to his chest so George wouldn't see the drawings. George curled a finger underneath Philip's chin and pulled his face up to meet his own. He tasted like smoke, and Philip was surprised when he didn't entirely hate it. "You should say it more often." He said as he pulled away, knocking their foreheads together playfully.

"Maybe I will." Philip muttered, his grin overtaking his face. George laughed and returned to his seat at the window, still taking long drags of the cigarette. Philip sat in his bed, still wrapped up in the sheets, and drew him. He drew George's profile, complete with the cigarette caught between his lips. He drew his dark brown eyes and the sharp edges of his face. He drew his neck and shoulders and his collarbone, marveling at how chiseled everything about him was.

He wrote poems too, little scrawls of words next to a group of sketches. He often did things like this when he drew, writing short little poems that explained his thinking. 

"What are you doodling over there?" George called from his place at the windowsill. Philip looked up quickly, tilting the sketchbook slightly so George couldn't see the drawings.

"Nothing."

George raised an eyebrow and walked over to him. Philip in turn brought sketchbook all the way up to his chest, hiding the sketches. 

"Can I see?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't show my drawings to anyone."

"Not even me?" George sat down on the edge of his bed, took the cigarette out of his mouth and nuzzled Philip's neck, making him giggle. George reached to grip the edge of the book, but Philip shook his head and held it tighter.

"Please? I want to see what kind of art that brilliant mind of yours makes."

Philip tapped his fingers on the cover as he thought it over, then eventually flipped to the front of the book and handed it to George. George looked at him gratefully before turning his eyes to the page. 

The first picture was a picture of his dads. It was the same picture as the one that was kept on the mantle, a picture of them hugging at their wedding day. Philip had drawn it at a low point in their relationship, when Pops was working on a stressful project for _Time_ magazine. He had started to come home later and later, and he would even come home drunk sometimes. He would sleep in his office instead of with his husband, and Theo and Philip were terrified, sure that the two of them were going to file for a divorce. But then they had worked through it and Pops started sleeping with his husband again and coming home on time, and the two of them remained as in love as ever.

George stared at it for a while, then turned the page. The next one was another redraw of a picture on the mantle, this time of his sister. They had been visiting their aunt upstate and had spent the day at a small lake near her house. Theo had asked him to draw her, and it was the only picture he'd ever showed to anybody. And even then he'd only showed it to Theo. 

George flipped casually through all the pages, his face unreadable, the cigarette hanging from his lips. Most of them were just lazy sketches of trees and landscapes and people. Philip was growing more anxious by the second, and he instantly regretted letting George look when he flipped to the most recent drawings, the ones of George's chest and face and arms.

"Y-yeah, okay, that's enough." Philip tried to grab the book from him but George swiped it away out of his reach. "George, come on, give the book-"

"Are these of me?" George stood up and tried to move out of Philip's reach, but Philip grabbed his arm and pulled.

"Give me the book-" Philip reached over his shoulders to try and retrieve the sketchbook, but George twisted the other way. 

"Aw gee, Pip, I'm honored. Didn't know you thought I was pretty enough to draw."

George turned the page and Philip actually almost screamed when he saw the particularly naked portrait of George he had absentmindedly drawn. George let out a low whistle and Philip tripped over the bedsheets as he grabbed the sketchbook from George's hands and held it close to his chest. 

"Yeah, that's enough." Philip's face was burning up and George was laughing under his breath as he closed up the sketch book and shoved it under his nightstand. As he was bending over his bed on his stomach, he felt the mattress shift underneath him and suddenly George was on top of him.

"What are you doing?" Philip squeaked, even more flustered now. Instead of responding, George hummed against his neck and trailed his hands down his bare sides, feeling every little curve.

"Such a pretty boy." He murmured into his hair before moving his mouth to the back of his neck and biting the skin there. Philip made a soft noise deep in his throat, and he felt George shudder above him. One of his arms wrapped around Philip's waist, keeping him in place as George rocked his hips down gently against Philip's ass. His fists clenched in the sheets as he thumped his head into the mattress and groaned. Were they really going to do this again?

Suddenly, George's weight was gone and there was a rustling noise as the mattress shifted again. Philip looked back over his shoulder and his breath caught in his throat when he saw George had gotten up and was pulling his sweatpants down.

Yeah, they were definitely going to do this again.

 

The third - well, fourth - time it happened was almost a month later. A month later of George pulling Philip into empty closets at school between classes and kissing him against the door. A month later of Philip losing sleep by staying up blushing over George's texts. A month later of the two of them meeting in the locker rooms after school to kiss and grind until they were both breathing heavy with kiss swollen lips. 

A month later of George doing nothing but watching while Philip got into fights he couldn't win. A month later of George leaning against the wall and smoking while his friends punched and kicked Philip until he was broken and bloody. A month later of going home with Theo on the bus and letting her tend to his bruises and cover them up so their dads wouldn't know just how bad it was.

The fourth time it happened was around then.

It was late one Saturday night - so late it could be considered early Sunday morning - around four am. Philip was sleeping soundly in the warmth and security of his own bed, when his phone buzzed. He didn't register it at first, but then it buzzed again, and he opened his eyes just a sliver. He opened his eyes all the way when he saw George's contact name staring back at him from the screen. 

Fully awake, he sat up and snatched his phone from the night stand, smiling stupidly. When he read it, his ever excitable nerves started jittering again.

_'Are you up?'_

_'I need you'_

Philip's thumbs stuttered over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. 

_I'm up now'_

No less than two seconds later, George responded.

_'Get your cute ass over here'_

Philip texted back.

_'Right now?'_

His phone dinged a couple seconds later. 

_'Yes, Pip. I need you, bad.'_

Oh lord, he never called him Pip. 

Before he knew what the hell he was doing, he had snuck out of his window and was riding his bike over to George's house at four in the damn morning. George's room was on the lower level, he knew from the countless times he'd gone over to his house after school. 

After dropping his bike on the lawn, he rapped lightly on George's window, knowing he shouldn't have come out here tonight. His parents would kill him if they caught him. The window slid open after a few moments, and Philip braced his hands on the ledge and hoisted himself up and inside. 

It wasn't until he had dropped down to the floor did he realize that George had a hand down his pants. 

Before he had time to say anything, George had removed his hand from his boxers and was dragging Philip towards his bed. He pushed Philip roughly down onto the mattress and sat himself between his legs, leaning forward to connect their mouths. Philip made a soft noise as his hands moved to cradle George's face and George started to strip him.

A half an hour later and Philip was pulling his own pair of boxers back on, completely blissed out, sweaty, and exhausted. George was on the opposite side of his bedroom, pulling on a pair of sweats. Neither of them spoke. Philip pulled his shirt back on over his head and started to reach down for his pants when there was a hand on his hip. He turned, and George placed one hand on his bicep and kissed his cheek sweetly.

"Stay?"

Philip looked down briefly, meaning to say something. "Hey..."

George curled one finger under his chin and tilted his head back up, smiling at him. The very moment their lips met, Philip was completely helpless and he loved it.

"I have to be back before my dads wake up." Philip muttered and turned his head away from the kiss, but George only moved his mouth to his neck. 

"Just for a little bit, okay? You'll be back before they wake up, I promise."

"M'kay." Philip turned his face back and they kissed once more before George pulled him over to his bed. He watched as George got into his bed and pulled the sheets up around his waist. Philip stood and fiddled with his hand, hesitant to get in bed with him, knowing he'd fall asleep instantly. George peeled back the covers and patted the bed expectantly.

"Well?"

Philip got the message and sat down on the bed, pulling the sheets up to his belly. He remained sitting and watched George settle down into the mattress. He was so gorgeous that way, with the moonlight from the window spilling over his body. Philip stared for a little while, completely unaware that George was staring at him and thinking the same thing. 

"Are you going to lay down? Or are you just going to sit there and ogle me?"

Philip flushed but squirmed down into the bed, turning onto his side to face George. They stared at each other like that for a while, neither of them saying anything, just listening to the clock tick up on the wall in he peaceful quiet. George yawned and reached out to brush a few wayward curls from Philip's face, making Philip's heart flutter. 

His hand trailed slowly from his forehead to his jaw, down his neck and his shoulder, ghosting along his side and finally coming to a stop on his hip. George used his grip as leverage to pull Philip closer until they were chest to chest. Philip smiled a little and snuggled into his arms, resting one hand on George's collarbone and the other on the small of his back. George weaved a hand into his curls and kept his hand on Philip's hip.

Surprisingly, Philip couldn't fall asleep yet. Instead, he focused on George's calm breathing and the slow rise and fall of his chest along with his heartbeat, steady and pulsing. He didn't know if George was asleep yet, his hand was massaging his hip lazily but his breathing had steadied, leaving Philip alone with his thoughts. 

"Hey, Pip?"

Twice in one night, Philip thought blearily, that's the second time he's called me Pip.

"Yeah?"

"What's it like with you and Richard?"

Philip pulled away a little, "What do you mean?"

"Like," George shifted a little bit, looking flustered. "What's your relationship with him?"

Philip stared up at him curiously, wondering if he really looked embarrassed or if it was just the light playing a trick on him.

Richard Price and Philip Hamilton-Burr had been friends ever since the day Richard asked Philip for part of his cookie in first grade. Since then they'd gone to each other's houses after school, helped each other with home work, and made each other feel a little less alone in the world. 

They'd even shared their first kiss together in freshmen year, in the basement of Richards home.  
But no one knew about that.

They were both acne ridden teens who were struggling to figure out if they really liked boys or if they were just going through a 'phase'. They'd only kissed just to see what it was like, and that was the point where they both realized it was not just a phase. They agreed to remain friends and never speak of it, and had both made sure there was no real attraction between the two of them. 

For some reason, it had only brought them closer as friends. 

"We're just friends." Philip squeaked after an unreasonably long time.

"You sure?" George asked, sounding...relieved?

"Yeah." Philip nodded, and tucked his face back into George's chest. George nodded and they fell into another comfortable silence. 

"George?" Philip whispered into the darkness after several seconds of silence. 

"Hm?" George's response was late and labored with sleep.

"This is gonna sound weird but..." Philip took a deep breath, "if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?"

George was silent for a while, and Philip had thought for a fleeting, terrifying second that he had weirded him out. 

"Jeez, I don't know, that's a tall order. Probably a motorcycle." 

"Doesn't your dad have one?" Philip tilted his head up to look at him, resting his chin on his chest.

"Yeah. But he won't let me use it. Old man's afraid I'll bust it up."

"Why do you want one?"

"So I can run away from here." George responded, his voice unusually grim.

"Oh." Philip went silent. He hadn't known George felt that way. 

"And so I can look like a badass." He finished, his joking, sarcastic tone back as soon as it had left. Philip laughed softly, keeping the mood light instead of asking about his split second morbidness. 

"You already look like a badass in that car." Philip murmured, making George chuckle quietly. "But a motorcycle's a good choice."

"What about you?" George cleared his throat after a while. "What would you want, kid?"

Philip was silent for a little while, his hand tracing lazy patterns on the small of George's back. "Anything?"

"Anything. I'd give it to you."

Philip smiled a little, he'd actually thought about this question a lot. But there was still a little bit of hesitance.

_'You. I'd want you.'_

As if he could tell what Philip was thinking, George prodded him gently. "Come on, no one's going to judge you, even if it's weird. It's just you, me and the stars."

Philip took a deep breath and...

"I'd want the sunset."

George let out a low whistle. "Yikes doll, that's a big one." Philip snorted and George grabbed his face and tilted it upwards. "But I'll find a way."

He brushed their noses together and they locked eyes briefly before their lips met and Philip realized there was nowhere else he'd rather be than here, at 5 am, with George Eacker.

 

A couple weeks later was when everything started to go downhill. School had just gotten out, and George had pulled Philip into the boy's locker room, which was mostly deserted at this time in the school year. George pushed him up against the lockers and kissed him roughly, earning a pleased noise from the other boy. Philip wrapped his arms around George's shoulders as he hitched his shirt up, his hands cool on his skin. Philip couldn't stop his hips from jerking forward.

God, he felt like he was on fire. His skin was burning up and his heart was beating at the speed of light, like it always did when George kissed him like this. George's hands were on his ribs, rubbing gently over the bruises he'd earned over the course of that week. Philip's hand crept up the back of his head, the other gripping his shirt tightly. George pressed in closer and groaned, making Philip shudder, this could not get any better-

"Philip?"

Fuck.

George broke away immediately, as if he was burned, and they both turned. Richard stood in the entrance to the boy's locker room, holding his violin case, his wide eyes even wider behind his thick framed glasses. Philip pulled his shirt down and took a deep breath.

"Richie." He glanced at George, who had taken particular interest in the tiled floor. "What uh, what are you doing here?"

Richard looked between him and George multiple times. "I could ask you the same thing. What...-why..." 

"I should go." George muttered and brushed past Philip to leave, giving Richard a wide berth like some wounded animal. He didn't look back.

_'Come back, please.'_

"Richard..." 

"Don't." Richard sighed and walked over to him, sitting on the bench in front of him. "Just...is that what you've been doing these past few weeks? Making out with Eacker after school? Hell, have you _slept_ with him?"

"That's none of your business." Philip crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

"Fuck, you have, haven't you?"

Philip looked at him, and realized Richard was angry. "Please don't tell my dads, Richard. Please, they'll be so disappointed-"

"That's all you have to fucking say to me?" Richard stood up and looked indignantly at him. "You've ignored me for weeks, no _months_ , and then I find out it's because you've been fucking some druggie behind the school, and you want me to cover for you?" His voice was rising and Philip thought he saw tears in his eyes.

"Richard, you're my best friend, you're supposed to cover for me-"

Richard started laughing.

"Best friend?" He snarled, "I haven't even spoken with you in a _month_ , Philip, we haven't hung out in a month!"

That wasn't true! He and Richard had hung out only...

Why couldn't he remember the last time they'd hung out? 

_'Because you haven't hung out in a month. You've been too busy hanging out in George's car after school.'_

It was true. Philip had been favoring sitting in the backseat of George's convertible and drawing as George rambled about car models, leaving Richard to do his homework alone at the library.

"Do you know what last night was Philip?" Richard crossed his arms and stared at him expectantly. Philip remained silent. 

"It was my last orchestra concert of the year." Richard finished for him, and this time he did have tears in his eyes. It took a lot for Richard to cry.

Shit.

Richard had been talking up that concert for months.

And Philip had completely forgotten.

"You know, the one with my solo? The solo I was going to play to try and get into Juilliard?" Richard bit his lip and looked down.

"God, Richie, I'm so-"

"You were with him instead, weren't you?"

The way Philip's shoulders slumped in guilt answered for him. 

"I wouldn't be so mad if it wasn't someone like Eacker, Philip. If it was someone worth getting that involved in, I'd understand. But he's _such_ a dick-"

"You don't know him like I do, Richard, he's nice to me-"

Richard swore and reached forward suddenly, yanking Philip's shirt up so they could see the bruises.

"Is that 'nice', Philip! Is he nice when he beats you up, and treats you like shit? Huh?"

"That's not him, that's Nathanael, Richard, you know that! He'd never hurt me!" Philip yanked his shirt back down, his own voice starting to rise. George was nice. George would never hurt him.

"Is that what he's been telling you? That he would never hurt you?" Richards voice broke, and he shook his head frantically. "He watches! He watches, and he doesn't do anything to stop it! Does that sound like love to you, Philip?" 

"Shut up, Richard, _shut up_. He cares about me, I _swear_ he does-"

"He cares about the sex! Wake up, Philip, God dammit! He doesn't care about you, he doesn't love you, what he loves is the fact that he can fuck you without a fight!"

"Shut up, Richard, please-"

"Open your eyes Philip! Before you get hurt any more! He fucks everyone! He doesn't see people, he just sees bodies. He watches you get beat up because he doesn't care whether you get hurt, as long as he can still get you to drop your pants! Stop hurting yourself for him, it's not worth it, _he doesn't love you_ -"

Philip's fist cracked across his face so fast he didn't know what happened. Richard stumbled back and his head hit the metal locker, his glasses falling from his face. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing. 

Richard looked at him, shock and hurt written across his bruised face. There was blood on Philip's knuckles. He looked down at his hand, his own face shocked at what he had done before looking back up at Richard.

"W-wait, I didn't mean to-"

"Wow." Richards voice was flat and emotionless, and he laughed breathily. "That's what I get for caring, huh? That's what I get for trying to protect you?"

"Richard, please, I-I didn't-"

"No. No I get it. You're a Hamilton, and they don't like hearing that they're wrong, I get it." He bent to pick his glasses up with shaking hands. "I should've known better than to try and stop you." 

Philip reached out to him, and Richard flinched away, grabbing his violin case from the ground. They stared at each other in silence. 

"I hope you're happy, Philip." Richard spoke up finally, sniffing when his voice broke. "Really, I do."

With that he turned on his heel and exited the way he had come, leaving Philip shaken and alone in the locker room. 

 

When he got home, he walked immediately to the kitchen to get a drink. Theo was babbling into his ear about something or other, but Philip wasn't really paying attention. Pops was sitting at the table, typing at his laptop, and his dad was sitting across from him, sipping coffee and going over his law papers from work.

"Hey Philip?" Pops called, glancing up from his laptop briefly. Philip made a noise of acknowledgement as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

"Did you know that Richard got into Juilliard?"

Philip choked on his water. Richard hadn't said anything about actually getting _into_ Juilliard. He turned and looked at Pops, shocked.

"Yeah, he was in the news this morning. His tryout was last night, after his concert." Pops looked up at him and there was something in his eyes that made Philip uneasy. He knew something.

"Um, good for him." Philip's voice shook and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"That's very good for him." Dad didn't look up from his work, but nodded in agreement.

"I called his mother to congratulate him. She said you weren't there."

Silence.

Theo had stopped talking.

Aaron looked at his husband strangely.

"In fact, she said she hadn't seen you in over a month."

Aaron turned his gaze on his son.

"Do you want to tell me about that?" Pops asked in that incredulous tone that parents usually did. 

"I..." Philip groped for a believable lie, but nothing came. His head was still reeling from the incident in the locker room. He looked to Theo for back up, but she only stared at him expectantly. 

"Philip, where have you been going after school? Does it have something to do with your grades dropping?" Pops kept asking as always, and Philip felt the panic and guilt start to rise. 

It was _always_ about the grades, wasn't it. God _forbid_ Philip Hamilton-Burr have bad grades for once in his life. Everyone knows you can't uphold the infamous Hamilton-Burr legacy with shitty grades and a bad rep. 

"I...I've been hanging out with someone else." He responded finally, setting the glass down on the counter gently. The silence was nearly deafening. 

"Who."

"George." Philip glanced down at the wooden floorboards, wishing it would open up and swallow him whole. 

"Who?"

"George Eacker." It was Theo who responded this time, and when Philip looked at her, she was looking at the ground too. "Some guy from school."

"Some guy?" Dad prodded, more gentle than his husband but still confused. "He must be pretty important for you to skip out on Richard. Especially for that long."

"I wasn't skipping out on Richard." Philip muttered defensively. "I didn't mean to."

"Well you didn't go to his concert or his audition. And you ignored him at school a lot." Theo glared at him, and he returned the look willingly. So much for having each other's backs.

"Why wouldn't you tell us about George?" Pops looked between his kids strangely, bit Philip wasn't listening. Theo was staring him into the ground, and he felt even more panicked than he had before. Theo and him always hung out after school. They would walk down to the ice cream shop on the corner and get ice cream before meeting up with Richard to do their homework. The last time they had done it, Philip had been dared to eat the entire cone in less than a minute and then he'd thrown up in the parking lot. 

That had been over two months ago.

Philip realized in horror that he hadn't been just ignoring Richard, he'd been ignoring Theo too.

His own _sister_ was out to get him.

"Because he's a drug addict." Theo spat, proving Philip's assumption. "He gets high behind the school in some rusty old Cadillac."

Philip wanted to die.

"That's not true!" He whipped around to face his fathers, and the shock and disappointment in their eyes hurt him more than anything. "You don't even know him Theo, how could you say something like that?"

"I don't need to know him Philip, I've seen him! That's probably why your grades have been dropping, cause you've been wasting all your time with him!"

"Theo, enough. Go on up to your room." Dad stood up and stepped between the two of them, a hand on Philip's shoulder. "We have a lot to talk about."

Philip could feel his eyes on him but he wasn't looking at his father, he was looking at his sister, betrayed and hurt.

"Why do you want to take this away from me so badly?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please, Philip-"

"No, why do you hate him so much?" Philip shrugged off his father's hand, his voice rising and tears threatening to spill. "Why can't you stand the thought of us being together?"

"Because he's an asshole, Philip! Is it wrong to protect my brother? Eacker obviously doesn't care, and someone has to!"

"I can take care of myself, Theo, I don't need you constantly meddling in my life!"

"Enough, you two-"

"Fine." Theo raised her hands in defeat, her eyes cold. "You want me to leave you alone, then fine. But don't come crying to me when you find out that he's been sleeping with half the school."

Philip stopped. Theo seemed to realize what she had said the same time their parents did, and she sucked in her bottom lip and sighed.

"I'm sorry, that...I shouldn't have-"

"I _hate_ you."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. That was a habit of his. His dads joked that he got it from Pops, which was probably true. He didn't want the words to be true but they sure felt true. He hated her for coming after him like this, for being mad that the person he liked was a person she didn't. He hated her for making his dads disappointed in him, he hated her for always being the better sibling, the prefect daughter.

She stared up at him, mouth agape and eyes shocked. Philip looked down and she reached out to grab his shoulder. He brushed past her and walked out of the kitchen without another word. All three of them called after him but he didn't care and didn't turn around. He trudged up the stairs to his room and didn't stop until he was safe behind it's locked doors. There he sat with his back pressed to his dresser and put his head in his hands.

_'Fuck.'_ He thought.

"Fuck." He said. 

 

The next morning was just as bad. 

Philip didn't come down for breakfast when his dad called him, and he didn't come out until he had to leave for school. He didn't want to spend time with them. He didn't want to talk about what he was feeling or explain who George was or what their relationship was like. 

Luckily, Pops drove them to school, and he wasn't as good at the emotional stuff as Dad was. The car ride was silent except for the radio station he always listened to, spouting news about the new gender revolution or what kind of crazy ass bullshit was going down on Capitol Hill today. Normally, Pops would comment on whatever was happening and make remarks here and there. But today, he was silent.

When they got to school, Philip muttered a quick goodbye and got out of the car without looking back. 

Lunch rolled around and Philip found himself searching the crowded halls for George, like he usually did. After minutes of searching, Philip started to panic. Maybe George didn't come to school today? Maybe he got into a fatal car accident in his Convertible? Philip was always telling him how old cars like that weren't safe; the brakes were slow to react and there were no airbags. 

But then there was that unmistakeable brush of a hand on his thigh and he turned slightly. George was standing next to him and was sliding a hand around his waist, glancing around to make sure nobody noticed. After no one showed any sign of interest towards them, George leaned down ever so slightly.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

"I need to talk to you." Philip whispered back. George nodded and straightened up, keeping his hand on Philip's hip. They walked in silence until George discretely moved Philip towards the boy's bathroom and the two of them walked in. After locking the door and checking all the stalls, George turned towards him. Philip threw himself into his arms and buried his face in his chest.

George stiffened for only a second and then wrapped his arms around Philip and held him close. They stayed like that for a while, silent and safe, away from the prying, judging eyes of the world. George pulled back to look at him, holding him at arms length.

"Are you okay?" He asked again and brushed a few curls out of Philip's face. "What happened?"

"My parents found out, George, I had to tell them, I'm so-"

George stepped away from him and his eyes darkened. " _What_?"

"I-I couldn't just lie to them, George, it was going to happen sooner or later, I-"

"Are they going to tell my folks?" George rubbed a hand over his eyes and turned away. 

"Wha- no, of course not! Why would-"

"What about Richard, who will he tell?"

Philip stopped. "I-I don't know, I-...he-"

"Fuck." George muttered. "Fuck." He repeated louder. "I'm so screwed. That little shit's gonna tell the entire school about what I've been doing."

Philip suddenly realized what was going through George's head. Now that their secret was out, it would spread like wildfire through the school. Oh God, oh Christ, could you _imagine_ what they'd say?

_'Philip Hamilton-Burr, the son of two revolutionary prodigies, has thrown his life away by falling in love with the school druggie.'_

_'The living prodigy of the Hamilton-Burr legacy has been too busy giving blowjobs to the stoner kids behind the school to worry about his grades. It must suck to have raised such a slut.'_

And George was going to leave him for it.

Because Philip wasn't worth the gossip. 

"I have to go." George muttered and pushed past him towards the door.

" _Please_ don't go."

Except Philip didn't say that.

"Stay with me, _please_."

And he didn't say that either.

Instead, he watched as George shut the door behind him and didn't look back.

 

Philip missed the bus home that day. 

But it was for an entirely different reason than what Theo thought. Theo thought it was because he was with George again, so she waited in front of the school until the last bus left. Even though Philip hated her guts she couldn't bring herself to leave without him. 

Little did she know, Philip wasn't with George at all. He had just gotten into another fight. 

He had been walking towards his locker after his last hour and looking forward to just going home with his sister. Even if it meant sitting through an awkward silence at dinner or having a sit down with his dads, he didn't want to be with George after school. 

He had just gotten his locker open when Nathanael slammed it shut from behind and kept it shut with his forearm. 

"Hey there, cocksucker." Nathanael grimaced at him, the slur making a couple of his friends - who were standing near by - chuckle under their breaths. 

"What the hell do you want, Pendleton?" Philip crossed his arms and fixed him with a cold glare, unwilling to put up with his bullshit today. He didn't want to get into another fight, but if this prick wouldn't leave him alone, Philip would surely stand his ground. 

"Can't I visit my favorite fag and not have a reason?"

"Go to hell." Philip spat and shoved his forearm off his locker. Nathanael didn't like the answer and in quick motion, he weaved a hand into Philip's hair, clenched his fist and banged his head against the metal locker. Philip hissed in pain and wrenched away, his hand going to his head as pain exploded in his skull.

Nathanael made to grab him but one of his friends held out an arm and motioned towards the other side of the hall. A teacher was walking with a student, looking too involved in the conversation to notice them. The surrounding kids at their locker, instead of offering Philip any help or notifying the teacher, started packing their things quickly and taking off. Made sense, they didn't want to be here when things got messy.

It was a sink or swim world in Philip's high school.

And Philip was sinking quickly.

Nathanael watched nonchalantly until the teacher and student turned the hall, and then he turned to his friends and motioned to Philip. As he turned and started to walk, one of his friends grabbed Philip by the back of his shirt and pushed him forward. The halls were starting to clear, and as they passed the hall that lead to the front entrance. The buses were starting to leave.

Philip squinted, and thought he saw Theo standing by one of the buses, looking around at the kids streaming out of the doors. She was looking for him. Philip struggled against the guy's grip, but he delivered a warning smack to the side of his head. Philip turned forward, and realized Nathanael was taking him outside, to the back parking lot.

Shit, things were really going to get bloody. 

Nathanael opened the door and held it as his friends threw Philip out so forcefully that he fell and hit the asphalt. Nathanael looked back down the hall to make no one had seen before he closed the door and turned to Philip. Philip got up quickly, his skull still throbbing from where Nathanael had smashed it into his locker. He didn't want to fight, he really didn't, he was so emotionally drained after everything that had happened, but Nathanael wasn't going to let him go without a fight. 

Nathanael was the one to take the first swing. Philip saw him reel his fist back and had just enough time for him to duck beneath his arm, his fist whizzing by within an inch from his head. Nathanael stumbled, and Philip tried to make a run for it, but his friends grabbed him and pushed him back. God, he was so screwed.

One of his friends threw him up against the wall and pressed his forearm into his chest as Nathanael approached casually. Philip struggled against his grip, but stilled when Nathanael's fist cracked across his face. He opened his eyes, still reeling from the sudden blow, and found himself staring wide eyed at George across the parking lot. He was leaning up against a car with a couple other kids, a cigarette in his mouth. He locked eyes with Philip and for a single moment, and he actually believed George would come get him. He would come push Nathanael off and for _once_ not just watch. George stared for a moment.

And then he looked the other way.

And somehow that was even worse than him watching. Philip stared after him, begging him to come over and fucking help him, but then Nathanael's fist cracked across his face again. 

"You're a weak little fag, you know that, right?" Nathanael spat and grabbed Philip's face, slamming his skull into the brick wall when he didn't look at him directly. He bit his tongue at the same time his head struck the wall, and the coppery taste of his own blood filled his mouth.

"Easy for you to say." Philip growled, his skull throbbing painfully. He squirmed against the guys forearm again, and swore when he punched him for it. He turned his head to the side and spat his own blood out onto the ground. "You're not the one being held up against a wall. You fuckin' coward."

Nathanael grimaced at him and then pushed his friend off of Philip angrily. Philip took a deep breath, his chest finally able to expand fully again. The relief was short lived, as Nathanael grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and spun him around, shoving Philip into the middle of the parking lot. 

"Go on! Show me then! Show me you can fight, you little shit!"

Philip's knees wobbled as he stood up straighter and he wiped his sleeve across his mouth, scowling when his blood smeared red across the white fabric. Blood stains were hard to get out. Nathanael approached him menacingly, hatred burning in his dark eyes. Time seemed to slow a little as Nathanael pulled his fist back to punch him. Philip dodged just in time, ducking beneath his arm and twisting around to face his back. He aimed his kick at Nathanael's shins, and watched as the bully's knees buckled and he was sent sprawling onto the asphalt. 

Time sped up again as his two friends came after Philip, and he took care of them quickly. His fist cracked across the jaw of one guy and he dodged the other, grabbing him by his shirt and pushing him into the wall. Nathanael had scrambled up from the ground and whirled around to face him, just as the other two regained their bearings and all three came after him. He was cornered.

Nathanael grabbed his arms and held them in a vice grip as one friend punched Philip in the jaw. The pain ricocheted around his head for a moment before he got his bearings back. Putting all his weight on the boy behind him, Philip raised his legs and kicked his attacker in the stomach, sending him stumbling and groaning backwards. 

The sudden weight on Nathanael made him lose his footing and then fall backward with Philip on top of him. The two fell amongst a plethora of groans and cusses, but Philip only hesitated a second before scrambling up and sprinting for the door. His fingers grazed the metal handle and Philip could almost push it open when there was an arm around his waist pulling him roughly back. Damn it.

Nathanael had gotten up and grabbed Philip before he could reach the door, and now spun him around and shoved him up against the wall again. He pressed his forearm back into Philip's chest and then grabbed his forehead in his hand and slammed the back of his head into the brick yet again. That was becoming a favorite move of his, Philip realized. 

Nathanael removed his hand from Philip's face and wiped the blood off on his pant leg with a disgusted grunt. Philip's head was throbbing and his vision was blurry, and he didn't ever want to move from that spot. Everything was warm all over but not in the good way, the kind of sickening warmth you feel in your stomach when you're about to vomit. His mouth tasted weird and warm and overly wet too, and Philip realized a second later that it was just the blood.

George and the couple other kids he was hanging with had finished up their smoke break and were now heading back into the school. They stepped around the four boys and opened the door nonchalantly, and headed inside. 

"What do you say, George? You wanna take a crack at him?"

George stopped in the doorway.

Philip looked up. 

George turned back and looked at Nathanael strangely, and Philip's hope sparked just a little. His mind flashed back to the warm spring afternoons where he would sit in the backseat of George's old car - Philip _loved_ that car - with his sketchbook and just listen as George rambled about the inner workings of old cars and how they'd changed over the decades. The warm spring afternoons where George's would slam the hood of his car shut and then climb into the backseat with Philip, wiping the oil off his hands on a handkerchief. The days where George would kiss his cheek and ask to see his drawings, and Philip would show them even though he _never_ showed anyone his art. 

His mind came back to right here, Nathanael's arm pressed against his chest, Philip's face bruised and bloodied but the love burning almost painfully in his chest. George looked at Nathanael - and again, looking back on it with a smarter, not so lovedrunk perspective, Philip realized George had been simply considering the offer - and then to Philip, and Philip tried to smile. Because _his_ George would never hurt him. 

George snorted and rolled his eyes and turned to leave but Nathanael kept talking. 

"Aw, c'mon. I'll hold him down for you." And to prove it, Nathanael stepped to the side, keeping a firm arm across Philip's chest. George looked at Nathanael. He looked at Philip. 

_His_ George would never hurt him. 

George shrugged.

"Alright."

Philip's heart shattered into a million tiny fucking pieces in his chest. Because the George that he'd made up in his mind would never hurt him. George walked over to stand in front of Philip. Their eyes locked. Theo and Richard were right. Why hadn't he listened to them? Why had he been so fucking dumb? Their eyes locked. 

And George punched him.

Hard. 

So hard that the back of Philip's head hit the brick and the skin split, leaving a spot of warm blood on the brick. Nathanael removed his arm from Philip's chest, looking a little surprised. Without the weight on his chest holding him up, Philip slid brokenly down the wall, coughing up blood into his hands. 

Through his blurry vision, he saw George turn on his heel and walk away inside. One of Nathanael's friends said something and reached down to touch Philip's shoulder, but Nathanael's voice cut in sharply and angrily, and then the three were moving away from him. They looked around for a moment before turning and going inside, leaving Philip alone in the parking lot. 

He sat there, trembling and bruised all over, blood trickling in a steady flow out of his nose and the corner of his mouth, his head throbbing and bleeding, and his heart broken in a million pieces at his feet.

 

With his backpack sitting at his feet under the sink, Philip ran the paper towel under the faucet of the empty boy's locker room. Looking into the mirror, he pressed the sodden bundle of brown paper to his mouth, grimacing when he pulled it away and the towel was bloody. Theo was probably texting him, asking where he was, but Philip found he didn't really care. He felt numb and tired all over and everything felt out of place. There was no more real pain, just aches and sore spots and a disjointed, strange feeling in his chest. 

As Philip closed his eyes and splashed water into his face, he heard the door to the locker room open. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. He could tell by the sound of the footsteps, and he realized as he wiped his face with a paper towel that he hated that he knew the sound of those footsteps. He could tell by the strength of the arms that wrapped gently around his waist, and he hated it. He could tell by the hand that brushed away his curls and the feeling of full lips being pressed to his neck in a kiss that normally would've made his heart flutter and a giddy smile light up his face, but now only made him angrier. 

Philip ducked his head and refused to look at George as he busied himself with wiping the dried blood from his chin. George rubbed his knuckles into the skin of Philip's stomach in what was probably meant to seem loving, but Philip thought the motion was devoid of any real emotion. He smelled like cigarette smoke and cologne, and once, Philip loved that smell. That smell reminded him of warm afternoons sitting in the black leather seats of George's car, and of late starry nights in George's arms, listening to each other's heartbeats.

Now, the smell simply disgusted him.

George placed one hand under his chin and tilted Philip's face towards him, forcing the two of them to lock eyes. George smiled and then leaned in, brushing their noses against one another before trying to press their lips together. Philip turned away at the last second, feeling George's lips brush his cheek as he pulled out of his arms. 

"Babe?" George turned and stared as Philip grabbed his backpack and slung it over his bruised shoulders. George wiped a thumb across his lip awkwardly and laughed breathily. "Listen, uh, I've been thinking and I know you work during the summer and all that but..."

Philip started walking towards the door of the locker room, and George stared after him, confused. 

"But I thought that maybe we could go somewhere. You know, just the two of us. We could drive out of the city, up to the coast or..."

Philip kept walking, his head ducked.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

He stopped walking. The locker room was silent. George opened his mouth to speak again, but Philip cut him off grimly. 

"You have no idea what you've done, do you?"

Philip turned and looked at him with his bruised face, his eyes dark and emotionless. George stared back at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

"What are you-"

"You hit me." Philip stared at him, and then blinked like he couldn't really believe the words he said. Even thinking about what had happened in the parking lot made his heart break even more. "You hit me, George."

Philip said it again because as much as he hated the feeling the words left in his chest, they were true and George needed to know just how much he'd been hurting him these past few months. George opened his mouth to respond and then looked down at his feet, shifting them for a moment or two.

"Yeah, I-...it was just once, love, and-"

"Just once?" Philip narrowed his eyes at him and then let out a short bark of laughter. " _Fuck_ you." He breathed out finally, shaking his head slowly. The utter hatred in his voice made George flinch back a bit, and Philip was glad for it. He started to walk out again, quicker this time.

"Hey, if I hadn't, Pendleton would have known something was up, okay?" 

Philip stopped and turned to him again, crossing his arms over his chest. George started toward him, but stopped halfway.

"You really want people to know that you-"

"Oh, would you shut the fuck up about that? Would you stop fucking saying that and threatening me into submission with that? Like it's some _horrible_ thing for me to have sex with another guy."

At that, George rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed.

"Philip, you know I didn't mean-"

"I have two fucking dads, Eacker, so shut the fuck up about that, because I'm not ashamed of it. And you are. Just because you're scared of you're feelings, doesn't mean you get to use mine against me."

George opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. 

"I'm done with you. I'm done getting involved in what you do, I can't take it anymore." Philip shook his head, more at himself than at George, and turned to go.

"What do you mean you're done, Philip." George reached after him and grabbed his arm, but Philip yanked it away. His eyes were wide and confused and pleading, and it filled Philip with anger. How _dare_ he act like the hurt one. 

"I'm done with you, Eacker. I'm done being with you, I'm done fucking you, and I'm done ruining my life for you."

"Ruining your life? How could you ruin your own life, you live a perfect one!" George stepped back and let out a breathy laugh. "Your dads are two of the most successful and happy people in New York and they have a hell of a lot of money. You live a perfect fuckin' life, kid!"

"Yeah, I did! Until you came along and fucked everything up!"

George went quiet.

"I lost my best friend because of you. My sister fucking hates me because of you. My parents think I'm a goddamn disappointment because of you. My life is _hell_ , Eacker, living with a legacy as big as there's is a constant reminder of what a bullshit screwup I am."

George reached out again and then pulled his hand back, looking unsure of himself. 

"I wish I'd never met you."

"You can't mean that." 

"I do. So stop fucking acting like I meant something to you." Philip's voice was rising and the tears were threatening to spill and he hated himself for this, for it taking George to hit him for Philip to realize that he meant nothing to him.

"Of course you mean something to me." George grabbed his arm and tightened his grip when Philip tried to pull away. "Are you hearing yourself? Why would you say something like that?"

"I bet you say that to _everyone_ , don't you." A tear finally spilled down Philip's cheek and it took everything in his power to not look down at the floor. "I bet you lie to everyone you fuck, don't you?"

George reached out a thumb to try and brush his tears away but Philip slapped his hand away with a mutter of 'don't touch me'. 

"How many people have you been with while you were with me?" Philip's voice cracked a little and another tear fell quickly, but his eyes were stony and cold. George glanced away from him.

"Look at me!" Philip grabbed his arm and pulled, making their eyes lock. "How many!"

"I-..." George sighed, his eyes darting down to the floor before looking back up. "I-I don't know-"

"You don't know or have you lost count?"

George looked at him, practically begging him to not make him say it out load. Philip let go of his arm and stepped away quickly. He looked down at nothing in particular and realized with a jolt that he was an idiot and that they were right.

"Theo was right."

"H-hey wait," George stepped forward and put his hands gently on either side of Philip's face. When he looked up he saw that there were tears in George's eyes. "But that doesn't mean anything, Philip, they don't mean anything to me. _You_ do. What we have is different, I swear it is."

"Had."

"W-what?"

" _Had_ , Eacker. What we had was meaningless to you." Philip raised his hands to hold George's, and he rubbed his thumbs along his knuckles for the last time. He wondered if maybe if he hadn't been so dumb he would've been able to hold those hands longer. He took George's hands off of his face and pushed them against the taller boy's chest.

"I know it was meaningless because you did the same thing with countless other people. You watched me get beat to shit and didn't do anything to stop it. You tore my life to shreds without hesitation. You punched me, George, and people who love each other don't ever hit each other."

Philip took several steps back, putting as much distance between the two of them as he could manage.

"I don't mean anything to you. I never did."

But George didn't even seem to be hearing him. He was staring at Philip with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes. 

"Did you say 'love'?"

Oops.

Philip stared back at him silently, his eyes wide. He hadn't meant to say it, but it had slipped out in his anger. Because of it, he'd let loose an unrequited feeling that no one needed to know about. As George stared at him, Philip did the only thing he could do in a situation like that. 

He ran.

He ran out the door of the locker room and ignored George calling his name after him, just ran through the halls of the empty school and towards the front of the building. He had to find his sister and they had to leave now. He threw the doors open to the front parking lot and looked around quickly before slowing his pace to a brisk walk as he moved towards the side parking lot. Theo would be waiting there.

He heard the doors be thrown open behind him and without looking back he took off in a sprint towards the parking lot. He heard the pounding of footsteps on the concrete behind him and sped up, his skull pounding and vision going blurry again. It was so blurry in fact that when he rounded the corner of the school he ran right into Nathanael and his two friends.

Nathanael and one of his friends were knocked right off their feet, with Philip falling to the ground with a groan. George came around the corner and then skidded to a halt on the cement, reaching down to help Philip off the ground but then drawing back. Philip looked up through his blurry vision and saw Nathanael grimacing at him from the ground, and it made Philip scramble to his feet. He backed up until he hit George's chest, making him flinch and spin around to face him.

"Oh, was this guy giving you trouble?" Nathanael grunted as he pushed himself up off the ground, grabbing Philip by the collar of his shirt and looking at George. Philip tried to shove Nathanael off of him, but he slapped the back of his head, making the world go to fuzz again.

"N-no, Pendleton, it's fine, I can handle this." George reached out to try and grab Philip's arm, but Nathanael stepped back suddenly. He gave George a strange look before turning it on Philip. 

"Pendleton." George stepped forward, standing at least a head taller than Nathanael. "Let him go."

Nathanael stared at him, his eyes cold and narrowed. George was right, he could tell something was up. He turned and pushed Philip up against the wall, signaling to his cronies to keep watch. The other two guys held Philip down as Nathanael crossed his arms and looked up at George.

"Why are you so protective of him all of a sudden?"

"You've hurt him enough, he's learned his lesson." 

Nathanael stared at him before snorting and moving his hands to his hips. "Never took you for a fag, George."

George sighed, and Philip saw his fists clench. 

"Stay out of this, and you won't get hurt either." Nathanael turned away coldly and fixed his icy, angry glare on Philip. Philip watched him approach, his whole body completely lax. He was not going to take any of this shit today. 

He saw Nathanael raise his fist to punch him, and as quickly as he could, he let his knees buckle and he fell to the concrete. Nathanael's hand smashed right into the brick wear his head had just been wit a sickeningly wet crunch. He practically screamed in agony, his hand retracting to his chest, and Philip saw that it was bloody and the fingers were bent awkwardly. 

He tore his arms from the grip of the other two guys and scrambled up to his feet as Nathanael stumbled backwards, his hand clutched to his chest and streams of curse words and homophobic slurs flying from his mouth. 

Philip only hesitated a moment, to look over at George briefly, before spinning on his heel and attempting to make a hasty retreat. He never got as far as to figure out where he would go that Nathanael couldn't follow, as Nathanael grabbed the back of his shirt with his good hand and yanked him backwards harshly. Before he knew it, Philip was up against the wall again, this time with an even more furious, red faced Pendleton in his face. 

One kid placed his hands on Philip's chest and pushed, keeping him down as another held back George. The world started to spin again and someone was yelling as Nathanael's good hand disappeared behind him. It came back into view and something metallic shined in the sunlight, and the kid next to him started yelling something too. Pain exploded in his abdomen briefly before everything went strangely numb and warm and wet, and Philip faintly felt his legs go weak.

"-Nate! Don't actually _cut_ 'im!"

All of a sudden Nathanael's silhouette was gone from his vision and the sunlight broke through his vision, temporarily blinding him. There was a car. Philip recognized the car. Why did he recognize the car? Something clattered onto the ground. Nathanael and his two other friends took off sprinting down the side of the building, the other two guys looking over their shoulders anxiously. Why were they running? Philip probably needed to run too. Where was he again?

He stepped off the wall, about to run after them, away from whatever threat they feared so badly, when there was a faint sound of car doors opening. They sounded just like quick snaps of air in Philip's bleary mind, but they seemed to shake the ground itself they were so loud. He stumbled a little, the world spinning, unable to focus on the blurry figures standing in front of the car. 

A heartbeat in his ears. Steady and loud and pulsing, yet it seemed so weak and faint. What happened? He blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the white spots that were dancing through his vision, and everything cleared a little bit. 

Theodosia. His sister. The girl he'd grown up with and had always been horribly, lovingly, jealous of, was standing next to an open backseat door. Her mouth was agape and something fell from her hands and clattered on the asphalt. She was staring at him. He probably looked like hell. Two other men, his fathers, one with a hand over his mouth and the other, a hand in his hair, staring at him in the same disbelieving manner that Theo was. 

Philip tried to straighten up, to look a little decent, but the flaring pain in his stomach made his hands go to the area with a wince. His hands were met with the warm, wet, and sticky material of his shirt. Something splattered onto the cement below, and when Philip looked down to see what it was, he saw dark splotches on the gray concrete, like spatter paint. 

As he looked closer to himself, he found that there was a similar dark spot on his stomach, which was the source of the wetness. If he hadn't been so delirious, he probably would have realized it was blood. He looked back up and everything started to fade in and out, bright flecks of light swimming through his vision, like searchlights roaming the night sky. He looked back up.

His sister.

"I don't hate you. You were the best sister anyone could ever have, I'm sorry I was a horrible brother." He tried to say.

"Oh." Was what came out.

His dads.

"I'm sorry I wasn't a good enough son for you. I'm sorry I couldn't be the perfect child that you two deserved." He tried to say. 

But nothing came out.

George Eacker. His first love, his last.

"Even though it was the most painful thing I'd ever been through, if I could go back in time, I would love you all over again." He tired to tell him, desperate to make him smile again. 

"Shit." Was what he managed to mumble.

Everything took a sudden plunge towards darkness and Philip stumbled before someone screamed and the cement rushed up to meet him. 

 

The accident hit every major news channel late that night.

_'...Philip Hamilton-Burr, 19 year old son of famous activist and political journalist Alexander Hamilton and renowned prosecuting attorney Aaron Burr, had reportedly gotten into a fight with a few other students from his high school and was stabbed in the abdomen. He was admitted into the New York City Hospital this afternoon and is in an unstable condition...'_

Alexander Hamilton was pacing non-stop through the waiting room of the hospital, his hands carving frantic, worried paths through his hair, as his husband sat in one of the chairs, rubbing his hands over his face. Every time a doctor walked by Alexander would grab their sleeve and ask rather loudly about the condition of his son. Aaron would stand up and pull his husband gently away from the startled looking doctors and into his arms, petting his hair and whispering things. 

Theo turned away from the dismal actions of her fathers and instead looked down the pristine white hall to a boy who was sitting in one of the chairs, his dark head held between his hands. She crossed her arms and walked slowly over to George Eacker, reluctant to even talk to the guy who had torn their life and her brother's heart apart. She stopped a little ways away from him, then moved and sat in the chair next to him. He didn't look up.

"I don't think we've really met."

George jumped and looked up at her, his eyes unsure. After a moment he rubbed his hands over his eyes and sat up fully, breathing deeply.

"No, I don't think we have."

Theo stuck out her hand after a moment, and George took it, offering a small smile. 

"I'm Philip's sister, Theo."

"George." Theo raised an eyebrow at him and he continued. "I'm a...friend of his."

Theo made noise of understanding, but she could see right through it. She thought about the way when Philip's knees had buckled and he'd fallen, George had dived right in to catch him before he hit the ground and brushed the hair from his face and begged him to wake up. She remembered Philip rushing into her room three months ago only to gush about the tall, hot boy who'd kissed him in the bathroom. 

_'Just friends my ass.'_

"He talked about you a lot." Theo spoke up after a minute, not bothering to look up from the ground. She could feel George staring at her, but didn't look up. 

"He _talked_? Why...why do you say it like that? Like he won't make it?"

"Because he might not." Theo looked up at him now, somewhat angry at the fact that George believed it was going to be okay. Even if Philip made it through alive, Theo knew her brother like she knew her own mind, his heart would never be the same after that.

"My brother might die, George." Theo said again, determined to get her point across. "And you didn't deserve someone like him."

George looked backs own at the floor and sighed, his face falling.

"I know."

"You're damn right you know." Theo's eyes grew dark as the anger rose inside of her, anger for her brother and her parents. "So you better hope and pray to whatever God you believe in, George Eacker, that my brother makes it through this."

George nodded, refusing to make eye contact. 

"And if, by some small chance, he does live through this." Theo reached over and grabbed George's face, yanking it towards her. George noticed that he previously calm brown eyes had turned stony and cold yet also seemed to burn with the light of a million raging fires. 

"I want you to stay the hell away from my brother and my family. Do you understand me?" 

George nodded and her fingers dug and burned into his skin before she let him go and stood abruptly.

"I don't ever want to see you near my brother again, George." She looked down at him, emotionless one more time before turning on her heel and walking away back to her fathers. 

She didn't look back.

The students at the high school were excused from classes as an investigation began. 

 

_Philip watched closely as his dad's fingers walked slowly over the bone white piano keys, the light and gentle notes of the scale ringing out through the living room._

_"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf." His father looked over at Philip and smiled kindly and encouragingly. Philip smiled up at him before turning to the keys and shifting a little on the wooden bench._

_"...Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf." Philip repeated the numbers and the scale on the higher part of the piano, and when he looked back over at his father for confirmation that he'd done it right, his father was beaming._

_"Good!" Aaron reached over and ruffled Philip's curls affectionately, earning a giggle from his son. They did the scale again, only this time they started from the high notes and worked their way down. Through each exercise, Philip grew more and more confident, changing the melodies each time and switching up the notes._

_A little while later, when his father had allowed him to take a break for milk and cookies with his sister, the front door opened and there was the sound of pouring rain and a rush of cold air. The front door closed as his father wiped his hands on a towel and looked up as his husband entered the kitchen, his button up wet from the rain._

_"Papa!" Theo's voice was shrill as she leaped off of her chair and ran over to her other father, with Philip following close behind. Alexander set his wet work bag down on the counter - earning a small disapproving look from his husband - and scooped his small children into his arms, kissing their cheeks until they were shrieking with laughter. He ruffled both of their heads before standing up and turning to his husband._

_"How was work?" His father asked and placed a kiss to Alexander's cheek. It was something so small that Philip saw the two of them do every day, once when Papa left for work and then again when he got home, and most people wouldn't even think twice about it by it meant everything to Philip. He had grown up in a house where love was always alive, whether it be just the four of them at dinner or when they hosted parties and Uncle Herc and Uncle John would bring an entire plate of cookies for the kids._

_Philip could see the love in the way Theo and him would always crawl into their fathers' bed on stormy nights and sleep in between the two of them. He could even see it in the way Alexander would always let them have desert before dinner even though his husband always said no._

_He found that he was so lucky to grow up with not just the love his two fathers shared for each other, but the love they shared for their kids and the love of their big family. He was so lucky to grow up with summer nights spent in the creek behind their house catching frogs with Georges de Lafayette and Frances Laurens, of getting ice cream after school and going up to their aunts lake house during the summer._

_As Philip grew older, he realized he wanted that kind of love in his life._

 

Philip woke up slowly, everything too bright and too loud. There were voices that were faintly familiar and if Philip squinted hard enough at the pasty white ceiling, he could make out what the voices were saying. 

"What the fuck do you mean you're not going to represent him? He's your _son_ , Aaron, and you're not even going to take his case?"

"Alexander, would you just listen to me? I can't represent him as his father _and_ his lawyer, the jury will think I'm biased. I'm only thinking about what's best for-"

"Of course you're going to be biased, he's your fucking son! I can't believe you're not going to do this."

Philip tried to sit up and groaned, and the voices - which he had recognized as his parents - stopped instantly. "Pops, chill, I'm fine."

Philip rubbed his eyes and looked around, realizing he was in a hospital room. Oh, maybe he wasn't really fine. Everything started to come back to him like puzzle pieces, falling into place in consecutive bit by bit. 

His dads rushed over to his side, their voices and faces softer all of a sudden. It bothered him how they fought with each other like that and then just instantly softened when it came to their children. 

"You're not fine, Philip, sweetheart, but that's okay, we're going to take care of everything, don't worry." His father rambled and brushed his curls from his face to kiss his forehead. Pops took his hands in his and held them.

"You will be fine, Philip, that's what matters. You're alive and safe and that's all that matters." His husband looked at him and nodded before taking his hand and turning back to Philip with a somewhat reassuring smile. Philip looked between the two of them and instantly felt overcome with emotion. These two had grown up as orphans, in a world where the LGBT+ community was constantly mocked. They'd gone through hell me back together, thought themselves and each other how to be fathers to their children. And they'd never stopped loving each other through the whole thing. 

They'd raised Philip and Theo all on their own with no other help from anyone. They'd gone through having to specifically look for unisex bathrooms or sneak into the women's bathroom when their two children were infants because the men's bathroom didn't have baby changing tables. They'd gone through their rough awkward teenage years and having to teach the two of them about sexualities and how to be safe when dealing with rape culture because the world was not yet entirely safe for people like them. They'd argued with the two of them about things Philip thought were dumb and overprotective and unreasonable but really his parents were just trying to keep him safe. Philip thought about all the sleep they'd lost worrying if they were doing any of it right.

And Philip had gone and broken all the rules and gotten stabbed and worried them sick and been an awful son.

Philip ducked his head, looked at the wedding rings on their hands and started to cry. 

His fathers shared a confused, scared glance and wrapped their arms around their shaking boy, shushing him and wiping away the tears. 

"Don't cry, Philip, honey, everything's okay." Aaron kissed the top of his head and ran his hands through his hair soothingly. 

"I-I'm sorry I'm such an awful son." Philip sobbed out and brought his hands up to his face, too miserable to look up at them. "I'm so s-sorry."

"No, Philip, no." Pops took his face in his hands and tilted it upwards, smiling sadly with tears in his eyes. "You are a _perfect_ son, and we love you so much."

"Do not blame yourself for this, Philip, darling please." Aaron took one of Philip's hands - which was wet with his tears - and held it in his, and rubbed his back soothingly. "Just let us take care of things, everything's going to be fine."

Philip nodded and wiped at his face with the back of a hand, managing to take deep shuddering breaths as his fathers held him close and comforted him just like they used to when he scraped his knees on their driveway when he was little. Funny how their love could make stab wounds seem as small as scraped knees. 

 

In the weeks that followed the accident, everything started to blow over and the Hamilton-Burr family was finally left alone. Reporters stopped shoving cameras and microphones in Alexander's face in public - _"Mr Hamilton, how is your son doing? Is the kid who did it in custody yet? Do you think the attack had anything to do with homophobia? Will your husband take Philip's case?"_ \- and the school opened back up and classes returned to normal, with just the amount of gossip across social media that Philip expected. Some people said that Philip and George were a couple and George was cheating on him, resulting in a big fight, some said he broke Nathanael's arm and he stabbed him in self defense, while others said the whole thing was a gay love triangle where George Eacker was sleeping with both Nathanael and Philip and the whole fight had been a thing of jealousy.

Nathanael and one of his friends were expelled, but one kid was there to tell the whole thing. And of course Martha and Lucy Jefferson were two of the most popular girls in the school, and everyone wanted to know if their cousin Philip was really sleeping with George Eacker. Theo refused to answer any questions about her brother, even though Philip told her she had every right to spread rumors about him. He deserved it, after all.

"You were right." He had muttered miserably as she hugged him after he first woke up. She pulled back to look at him, and he elaborated. "Eacker never cared about me. He hit me, Theo."

"Oh, honey." Theo sighed and wiped away the wayward tear that was coursing down his cheek. "I'm so sorry. Really, I hate being right sometimes."

"Me too." Philip sobbed and buried his face in her shoulder, letting his sister hold him and rub his back. "And I don't hate you. I'm sorry I said that, I don't hate you Theo."

"It's alright, I deserved it. I can be a major bitch sometimes." She choked out, making Philip laugh even though he could hear the relief in her voice. Pops was right, she was like their dad in every way. 

Richard had even come to visit him in the hospital after school one day, being hesitant at first but then when Philip grabbed him and hugged him, all hesitance was gone and Richard hugged him back eagerly. Philip had stuttered out a tearful apology about not being there for Richard and ignoring him, praying that he'd be forgiven but knowing Richard would never forget this. 

"Alright," Richard started as he sat on the hospital bed with Theo after school one day, "how are you going to get back at this bastard?"

Philip looked up at him strangely. Theo snorted and took out her bag to go over the homework with Philip. 

"Eacker, I mean. We are gonna kick his ass, right?"

"Richie, I don't-"

"Or maybe we should go for a more subtle approach?"

Theo opened one of her binders and handed it to Philip so he could look at the study guide for one of the upcoming tests. "Maybe we should beat up his car." Theo muttered jokingly, smirking at her brother.

"Like Carrie Underwood!" Richard gasped and grinned, making Theo laugh. 

"Richie, I appreciate it, but we'd totally get arrested." Philip looked back down at the study guide. He loved his friend, but he didn't feel like getting petty revenge. He just wanted to forget about everything that had happened. 

"Carrie Underwood didn't get arrested." Richie muttered but opened up his bag too for one of their daily study sessions. 

Theo and Richard willingly seemed to forgive him for everything that had happened, but Philip still couldn't forgive himself. There were days were he would sit in his hospital bed and stare out the window and think about that one night in George's bed where he claimed he would give Philip the sunset if he asked for it, where he held him close to his chest and his beating heart. He would think about the days he spent in that old car, leaning up against a dozing Eacker as he drew things, listening to his gentle snores and his deep breathing. He would think about the way George often brushed the hair from his face and stared at him fondly before kissing him hard and pulling his body closer.

And then there would be the moments where Philip sat back in bed, wallowing in his own self hate as his mind conjured up images of George bringing girls into his bed and his car that seemed, for three months, to only belong to Philip. His mind conjured up images of George asking them if their relationship with their closest friend was just a friendship, the same way he'd asked Philip about Richard, just to make it seem like he was jealous or protective. In his mind, he saw images of George brushing hair away from the faces of multiple different people, staring at them with that stupid lovestruck look and telling them they were gorgeous like he always told Philip. 

And there were the days were Philip thought his heart would never beat the same way again.

When George stopped by to visit him in the hospital, his heart seemed to burst all over again. He was sitting with his Pops and the two of them were talking about what Philip was missing in school and how he planned on catching up when the door opened and the two of them looked up. George immediately looked like he wanted to close the door, but he stood awkwardly in the door, holding the door half open. Philip and his father stared at him in unison, Alexander with a million questions going through his head and Philip just not knowing what was going through his head. George shifted on his feet awkwardly for a moment, then stepped inside the room and cleared his throat. 

"Mr Hamilton, I...don't think we've met." George took a step towards the bed, glanced at Philip and then back towards the door. Pops looked at Philip, slightly shocked and then stood abruptly and moved towards George with an extended hand.

"No, I don't think we have."

"I'm George, I'm one of Philip's friends."

They shook hands and Pops looked over at Philip for confirmation, and he nodded slightly. The handshake broke and then the two stood across from each other awkwardly until Philip leaned his throat, looked his father in the eye and nodded towards the door. Alexander made a rather loud noise of understanding and nodded frantically and moving past George and towards the door. 

After he left the two of them alone, Philip sighed and looked down at his bed. He'd been trying so hard to forget about what happened, to try and let go, but George wasn't going to let him do that so soon. He heard George move closer to the bed but he didn't sit down, which surprised Philip a little. Philip looked up at him and opened his mouth to ask why he was here, but George cut him off.

"There are a couple things I need to say before you can talk."

Philip's mouth closed with a click and he crossed his arms and waited expectantly. George took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I'm sorry, Philip. I was an asshole to you and because of that you got hurt, more than once. I was...confused about what I was feeling, I guess, and I took it out on you. But I've never really... _cared_ about someone the way I care about you, and it scared me."

Philip stared up at him disbelievingly, his lips slightly parted.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, and I frankly don't think you should, but I just want you to know that I am sorry. I...." he looked down, shoving his hands into his pockets. Philip didn't hunk he'd ever heard him be so serious. "I-I never wanted to really hurt you, Philip."

Philip looked away from him after a few minutes, instead turning his head to the window of the room and staring out into the cityscape. The room was quiet for a long time, Philip trying to think about what he wanted to say or what he should say. 

"I'm not going to be able to forgive you for what happened for a while, George." Philip said after a while, breaking the tense silence between them. "But I'm pretty sure you know that." 

George nodded. Philip stared at him before bringing his legs up to his chest and patting the space in front of him. George looked at him, obviously surprised, before moving slowly to sit on the bed in front of him. They sat in silence for a moment before Philip reached one of his hands out and trailed two fingers across George's knuckles. He pulled them back when George looked at him, and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"But I guess I am willing to try again with you. If you would want that." Philip mumbled into his knees, some part of him not wanting George to hear him. When he looked up at him nervously a moment later, George smiled at him. Philip felt his nerves settle a little bit. 

"Yeah, I think I'd like to try that." George extended a hand and hesitantly, Philip took it. "And I'll really try not to mess it up this time."

Philip laughed softly and smiled as George squeezed his hand, a silent promise. 

"Yeah, I'll try too." Philip nodded and held his hand for a moment longer before letting it go. He grabbed George's bicep and clumsily pulled him into a hug. It was warm and almost overwhelming but Philip found he didn't quite mind. George's hands were tight on his back, and he cleared his throat suddenly and thickly. Philip could hear the barely contained sob building in his throat, even though he'd never heard him cry before.

"Don't you dare cry on me, George Eacker."

George probably tried to laugh, but it came out closer to a rough sob. "I'm so fucking sorry. I-I'm..." George's voice got more rough around the edges and he cleared his throat.

"It'll be alright." Philip said after a moment and rested his head on George's shoulder. "I think it'll be alright."

Philip looked over George's shoulder and saw Pops give him a thumbs up from outside the door, and something told him everything was going to be just fine.

 

George's behavior changed drastically as Philip returned to school and gradually drifted into normal life again. He would walk Philip to his locker each day and then out to the busses at the end of the day, just to make sure no one wanted to pick a fight with his new maybe-boyfriend. If anyone gave them weird looks in he hall or said anything, George would wrap an arm around Philip's shoulder and flip said person off. If anyone came up to Philip and did something rude, George would step between the two of them and clear his throat while towering over the other person, which usually scared them off. 

He also picked up a strange habit of surprising Philip with roses in school, which was both truly endearing and slightly mortifying. He would come over to Philip's house for dinner some nights and be absolutely charming with his parents, which often made Philip roll his eyes. He let Philip hang out with his friends and even tagged along sometimes when they went out after school. Even though Theo didn't really like it, Philip was kind of excited to show off his hot new sort of-boyfriend. 

Another two months passed normally and  
without conflict, and they eventually developed a bumbling, lovely sort of courtship. It was nearing dusk one summer evening, and Philip was busy getting dressed for a date with his boyfriend. George refused to share their destination with him, so he took a wild guess and threw on a gray Jurassic Park t-shirt and a tight pair of jeans. The doorbell rang and Philip jumped, running to his bedroom door.

"I'll get it!" He screamed down the stairs and hoped his parents would stay away from his boyfriend. He stopped in front of the mirror and check himself out again slicking the hair back from his face. He looked like a mess but he heard the door open and panicked, running downstairs to protect George from his father and his questions. Sure enough, his father had opened the door and invited George in.

Philip practically vaulted over the banister of the stairs and ran up to his boyfriend.

"Hey, I'm ready to go so..." he took George's hand, out of breath, as Pops came out of the kitchen and waved at George. "Bye dads!" 

Aaron rolled his eyes at his son's frantic, protective state but gave him a knowing smile and moved over to wrap an arm around his husbands waist. Philip pulled George towards the door eagerly, waving quickly to his parents and then shutting the door behind them quickly. Philip bounded over to George's convertible and completely hopped over the door and into the passenger seat. George laughed under his breath and calmly sat down in the driver's seat and started up the car.

"Baby, chill. Just relax, our date isn't going anywhere."

"So where is this mysterious date anyway?" Philip looked over at him and found his eyes wandering over his body again, the way they always did when he found himself staring at his unreasonably attractive boyfriend. 

"It's a surprise." George told him as he revved the engine, and Philip frowned. "You'll love it, I promise." George leaned over the center console and cradled Philip's face with both hands before kissing him sweetly.

"You'd better hope so." Philip muttered jokingly but took the one of George's hands that wasn't on the steering wheel and held it. George laughed and squeezed his hand as they pulled out of the driveway. 

They drove through downtown as the sun lowered through a cloudless sky, passing the park where a small band was playing, filling the streets with peaceful guitar music. They stopped at a red light and George smirked at a few teens who were standing at the curb and ogling his car. 

"Nice car." One girl called, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. She had a _Make America Great Again_ hat on her head. George waved in a gesture of gratitude, but Philip could tell she was checking out his boyfriend more than his car. Feeling confident and more brave than usual, he held up their entwined hands and smirked. Her smirk dropped.

"Nice try, sweetheart, but he's mine."

Her mouth dropped and she scoffed. The light turned green and George sped off, laughing around the corner. 

They drove for a while longer, and Philip found his brain trying to conjure up what the surprise could be. They drove up to one of George's favorite diners, and Philip briefly wondered if they were going there to get burgers, but George drove right past it without a glance. Philip sat forward in his seat and looked around, trying to guess what it would be. Were they driving up to Mirror Lake? Philip thought that was unlikely since the famous lake was almost an hour away and nowhere near downtown. 

They were driving down a lonely street when George slowed suddenly. Philip looked around, but he didn't see anything of significance to him or George. He turned into a narrow alley, making Philip look at him, surprised. 

"I hope our date isn't in an alley, George." Philip looked at him as he parked the car, turned it off and got out with a small smile. Philip got out reluctantly, and George took his hand and led him over to a metal fire escape. He stepped up the first two steps and looked back at Philip when he didn't follow immediately.

"Just for the record, if you took me out here to murder me, I'm totally breaking up with you." 

George laughed and pulled him into his chest resting his hand on the small of Philip's back. Philip grinned as George kissed his cheek and slid his hand down further, towards his ass. 

"Come on." George whispered and took his hand again, going up another couples steps. "It's on the roof."

Philip looked up and saw the metal fire escape climbing up the entire brick wall to the flat roof. "What is?" He asked, still looking up and trying to think as he mounted the stairs after his boyfriend.

"You'll see." George looked over his shoulder at him smugly and Philip rolled his eyes.

"You're being creepy, George." 

"I'm being romantic."

"In an adorably creepy way, yes."

They climbed up level after level and when they finally reached the top landing, George turned and brought Philip's face in between his hands.

"Okay, you have to close your eyes." 

"But-"

"You trust me, don't you?" George brushed his thumbs delicately under Philip's eyes, smiling reassuringly.

"Yes, but-"

"Just close your eyes, Philip."

Philip rolled his eyes but closed them and let George take his hands. They walked up a couple more steps and then George pulled him up onto the roof, Philip could tell by the wind that blew through his curls and rode up his shirt. George took his hand and started walking again, and Philip felt slightly on edge by the fact that they were on top of a roof and he had no idea what George's plan was. After a few more steps, George moved behind Philip and put his hands on his waist, pushing him forward until Philip felt his feet hit the lip of the edge of the roof.

"Woah, okay." Philip tried to move backwards from the edge, grabbing onto the hands on his waist for safety. He heard George chuckle in his ear and his arms moved tighter around his waist.

"It's alright, babe, I've got you." George pressed a kiss to his neck. "You can open your eyes now."

Philip opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. 

He was staring directly into the sun setting behind a bed of clouds, throwing delicate rays of golden light over the peaks. The red tinted light glinted off the building of downtown, throwing red-orange light all across the landscape. The entire horizon was painted with shades of oranges and creams and pinks and purples, and Philip wished he had his acrylics with him so he could paint it, even though he knew he'd never get the colors just right. It was absolutely _gorgeous._

"Oh shit..." Philip mumbled, his eyes scanning the horizon, trying to take it all in and immortalized this moment.

"I know it's pretty late, but I figured I owed it to you after everything that happened." George moved to stand next to him, taking his boyfriend into his arms.

Philip turned to look at him, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you asked for the sunset, didn't you?" 

"You remembered." Philip whispered after a moment, staring at him and marveling at how the golden light made his skin almost glow. 

"Of course." George started speaking as Philip's hands moved upwards slowly to cradle his face, but Philip didn't even hear him. He was too busy falling desperately in love and overall just relishing in the feeling of being cared for. George was speaking faster and faster, going on about how he'd tried to figure out a way to give it to Philip for months, but then Philip's eyes dropped to his full lips and he smiled before leaning in to kiss him. 

He took his goddamn time with it too, just letting their lips mold together and their noses bump, making up for every slow kiss they missed in those first three painful months. Philip's hands moved down his chest at an unhurried pace, pressing in to deliberately feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, because he couldn't remember the last time they'd gone slow with each other. He felt George's hands run gently over his hips before they trailed up his body, over his shoulders and into his hair, all of it making Philip shudder so deep he felt George shiver in return. 

They broke apart after several minutes only to breathe, resting their foreheads together and letting their rapidly rising chests touch. Philip looked at him and smiled, whispering a thank you before kissing his lips softly and chastely again. 

"Hold on, that's not all." George smiled mischievously, and before Philip could ask what he meant, George pressed a palm to his cheek and turned his head away from the sunset and towards the roof. What Philip hadn't seen because of his closed eyes, was a picnic-like set up. There was a checkered blanket spread out on the roof with a box of pizza resting on top and two wine glasses full of dark red wine. 

"Oh my God. You're just too much." Philip slapped him on the arm and then yelped as George scooped him up into his arms. George carried a giggling Philip over to the spread and lowered him carefully down to the blanket. He grabbed the two wine glasses and handed one to Philip.

"To trying again." George clinked his glass against Philip's, a small smile lighting up his face. Philip grinned and repeated the toast before they both raised their glasses to their lips and drank. 

A half an hour later, after half the pizza had been eaten and the first stars were peeking out amongst a curtain of dark sky, Philip was curled up between George's legs, his head resting on George's chest. George's hands were running absentmindedly through Philip's forest of curls, occasionally leaning down to kiss the top of his head or simply breathe in his scent, making Philip giggle. Philip let his eyes close as his hands rested atop George's knees, tracing patterns into the fabric of his jeans. He sighed in contentment, nestling even further into his boyfriend's body as a chilly wind blew over the rooftop. 

"Alright, what's next on the list?" George shifted suddenly which made Philip snap his eyes open. George pulled Philip into his lap as he sat up fully, turning him so they could lock eyes. "I gave you the sunset, what do you want next?"

Philip thought for a moment, then realized it wasn't worth it and shrugged. George tutted and pulled Philip in closer and tighter.

"It's just you, me, and the stars, Philip. There has to be something you want."

Philip looked up and George followed his gaze towards the millions of stars that were starting to pinprick the sky. "They are really pretty, aren't they?"

George was silent for a moment. "They are but those weren't the stars I was talking about."

"Well which ones were you talking about then." Philip looked at him and scrunched up his nose, with a feeling he knew where this was going. George shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

"Well, they're right here." He reached up with a gentle finger and dragged it along the bridge of his nose, tickling him. "And here." He brushed his knuckles over Philip's freckled cheek lovingly, and Philip flushed realizing he was comparing the flecks of dark spots on Philip's skin to balls of gas flaring in the sky millions of miles away.

George's hand trailed down his chest and pulled his shirt up, revealing his heavily freckled chest. He pressed a warm hand against the skin and smirked at his boyfriend. "And all over there."

Philip snorted and shoved George playfully in the shoulder. "I'm supposed to be the poet in this relationship, you fuckin' sap."

"I'm just speaking the truth, babe." George pulled him back into his arms and peppered his face and neck with kisses. "But seriously," he pulled away slightly looking down at Philip, "I kinda need to know what you want next soon. 'Cause if it's somethin' big like your sunset request, I'll need some time to set that up."

Philip laughed softly and shook his head. "I don't want anything. I already have everything I could ever want." He rested his head on George's shoulder and yawned, relishing in the warmth of his firm body against Philip's. 

"And what do you have, exactly?"

"I have you, dumbass."

George stared at him, obviously surprised, which Philip thought was ridiculous because his feelings were so painfully obvious. After a moment, George offered the biggest grin Philip had ever seen him wear and ducked his head against Philip's shoulder.

"Ah shit, kid. You're too damn much."

Philip nodded in agreement as George laid him down on the blanket. Philip wrapped his arms around George's shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his boyfriends neck, breathing in the scent of smoke and cologne, which he didn't quite hate anymore. George planted a firm hand against Philip's ass, no sexual intent in the movement, it was simply supposed to be protective. 

The two curled into each other and stayed like that for a while under the stars. 

Philip was already half asleep when George kissed his forehead sweetly and whispered; 

"You're all I've ever wanted too, Philip."

**Author's Note:**

> They definitely slept(had sex,,,) on the roof of some crackhouse all night and Pip's parents were pretty pissed when he snuck home at the ass crack of dawn(with hickeys,,,,)
> 
> IM REALLY SALTY ABOHT THE FACT THAT HERE ARENT CHANGIG TABLES IN MENS BATHROOMS OKAY ITS DUMB AND I HATE IT
> 
> I have an Instagram now @ bikai.nsta come follow me for updates on stories and shitty ass art
> 
> alright imma go sleep for an eternity okay bye love you <3333


End file.
